


Pandemic

by sourwolfing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Disease, Infection, Multi, a disease that infects werewolves, genetically modified superviruses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwolfing/pseuds/sourwolfing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack's last summer before college was supposed to be a fun one - a summer full of trips to the beach and sleepovers and spending as much time together as possible before school tears them all apart. But trouble has a way of finding its way to Beacon Hills and threatens to turn their perfect summer into a living nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Scott threw his hands up, “I’m sorry, Stiles! You asked for my opinion and I gave it to you.”

“Well your opinion is wrong,” Stiles rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, “Godzilla would totally kick Sharktopus’ ass. It’s a shark with tentacles, not exactly a huge threat.”

“Exactly. It’s a shark – sharks are terrifying – with tentacles. So it’s definitely a huge threat. Would you ever want to get up close and personal with a shark?”

“Never wanted to get up close and personal with wolves either – but here I am.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. He’d heard this argument a dozen times before, and it hadn’t exactly been riveting conversation the first time around. But it was boy’s night in and they were sitting around Stiles’ kitchen table eating pizza and drinking beers that the Sheriff pretended he didn’t see them sneaking in and Isaac was beginning to get used to the asinine conversations. It was better than spending an entire night talking about full moons and creatures and Derek. He would settle for this if it meant pretending he was a normal teenage boy for just one night.

“I agree with Stiles,” Isaac chimed in.

Both boys stopped, their jaws nearly hitting the floor because, well, Isaac had never exactly not been on Scott’s side.

“What?” they both said, pretty much in unison.

“I agree with Stiles. Godzilla would kill Sharktopus in an instant,” he said with a shrug, finishing off his beer before adding on, “Unless the water was deep enough. I bet Godzilla couldn’t swim; he’d sink to the bottom before Sharktopus even had a chance to fight him.”

And that sparked a whole new argument about whether or not Godzilla could swim and the possible locations of the fight and who would win in each situation, and Isaac really wished he’d just kept his mouth shut. The two of them argued for a solid half hour while he just drank and idly texted Boyd, updating him with small tidbits of the conversation – mostly just Stiles’ ridiculous points and Scott’s misuse of words. After the argument began to simmer down Stiles suggested they watch a movie which then seemed to spawn an argument all of its own. It started to get a little messy when Scott and Stiles managed to agree on ‘Lord of the Rings’ but couldn’t decide which one to watch.

“The Fellowship of the King, Scott! We need to watch that one first!”

“Why? Return of the King is the best one!”

“Because it’s the first movie, dumbass. You don’t start with the last movie, you start with the first.”

“What do you think Isaac?” Scott asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

“I think it’s amazing that the two of you are friends, because you fight like an old married couple.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Sorry – we left the honeymooner’s stage about the same time Scott got involved with Allison.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being accused of cheating?”

Isaac laughed, “Because you’re both ridiculous.”

*********************************************************

Scott had fallen asleep about twenty minutes into the movie (‘The Mummy’ because Isaac had intervened) and Stiles had nodded off at some point before the end credits. When the movie ended, Isaac was hardly able to keep his eyes open, but he was having a hard time falling asleep when Stiles’ hand was hanging in his face. He was sprawled out on the couch, left arm and leg hanging over the edge and Scott was sound asleep sitting upright on the floor, his head resting on Stiles’ leg. Curling up on the floor, he reached up and grabbed one of the couch pillows from behind Stiles’ head and put it underneath his own. It wasn’t the first time he had fallen asleep on the Stilinski’s floor and it probably wouldn’t be the last – but he would always prefer sleepovers at Scott’s. Because at least then, he got to sleep in a bed; not waking up with a sore back was always nice. The discomfort never lasted very long, and he’d gotten very used to sleeping in unconventional places, but still – beds were always a plus. He fell asleep watching the credits, but wasn’t asleep for very long when Scott shook him awake. Or, well, it hadn’t felt like more than a few minutes, but when he caught sight of the clock he realized it had been three hours.

“What –“ Isaac silenced himself instantly when Scott brought a finger to his lips, and listened, pulling himself up into a crouching position.

There were footsteps in the hall – soft, quiet, hardly noticeable over the sound of Stiles’ snoring and the loud humming of the air conditioners that the Sheriff must have turned on when he got home. His first thought was that it was the Sheriff, but the sound was all wrong. These footsteps were lighter and lacked the gentle, tired stride with which he carried himself. They were slow and light and full of purpose, but they were familiar. Familiar enough to get his mind going, but not enough to carry an answer to the tip of his tongue. The footsteps grew closer and soon the intruder’s scent wafted in and struck him so hard, like a slap to the face, that he nearly fell over. Scott must have noticed it too, because there was a look on his face he hadn’t seen before. A look of anger mixed with fear and something else he couldn’t quite figure out. No, he didn’t know what the look was but he knew _why_. The scent was tainted. The familiarity of it all now overpowered with an indistinguishable stench that he couldn’t quite place, but it reminded him of his first trip to the animal hospital after receiving the bite – how he could smell the sickness, the decay. 

As the footsteps got closer, the scent grew stronger and soon Isaac could make out the outline of a girl he once knew standing in the doorway to Stiles’ living room.

“Erica?”

That was Stiles’ voice; Isaac hadn’t even noticed he was awake. Scott must have woken him too. But Isaac didn’t look over at Scott or Stiles, sights transfixed on the figure in the doorway. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. There was no sarcastic comment, no flirty repertoire; no ‘Did you miss me?’ or any other response that he would have expected from Erica should she ever find her way into their lives again. Everything about this was wrong. She liked to make entrances – would have returned to Beacon Hills in a way that had all eyes on her. Not like this; not breaking into Stiles’ house in the middle of the night.

“Erica?” it was Stiles again, his voice more hesitant than before.

This time she responded with a low growl, stepping forward into the moonlight and Isaac caught a glimpse of what used to be beautiful pale blonde hair. It was darker now, like she hadn’t seen the sun in ages, and fell in wild, intangible curls and she didn’t look like Erica at all. After the bite, Erica took great pride in her appearance – and this… this was very un-Erica. Something was definitely wrong.

She growled again, taking another step closer and that was when Scott nudged him in the stomach, gesturing towards her hands. Her claws were out, but Isaac knew that wasn’t what he meant – and when he looked closer, he noticed it. The sores, the cuts, bloody and swollen, all over her hands and up her arms for as far as he could see. She stepped further into the moonlight and Isaac caught sight of her face – namely her eyes. They were glowing gold like he’d seen so many times, but this was different. They were glossy and veined and just looked… like the eyes of a madman. 

“Erica what are you doing?” 

Scott. He was trying to reason with her, no doubt – to search around and try to find just a shred of humanity and pull her out of whatever the hell this was. It was just his nature. And as much as Isaac wanted to figure out what the hell was going on, what had happened to someone he had once considered a friend, he wanted to get out of this alive even more. There would be no reasoning with her. It was her or them; someone was going to die. He could _smell_ it. Whatever it was, whatever had tainted her scent, it had taken her over. She wasn’t Erica anymore. She was just an empty shell.

When she lunged, Isaac was the first to react. He shoved the couch – with Stiles still on it – out of the way and grabbed the hem of her shirt and threw her down. She clawed at his face and arms and neck, howling frantically with what he could only describe as panic and blind fury, and for a moment he looked down at her face and hesitated. And she took advantage of it. She threw him off of her, sending him into the wall before making another move towards Stiles. This time it was Scott who intercepted, but he merely acted defensively. He didn’t want to hurt her. But now wasn’t the time to hesitate. She was in this for the kill and if they didn’t get on the same page soon, they were all as good as dead. Scott was an alpha now and Stiles had picked up a few sparring tricks from Allison and he’d definitely polished his moves when it came to fighting since he’d seen Erica last, but right now that didn’t mean anything. 

Grabbing her by the collar, digging his nails into the soft skin of her neck, he paused for a moment, eyes wide with terror before throwing her into the wall. He put himself between her and Stiles, right alongside Scott, trying to keep his head in the fight despite the fact that his mind was desperate for the time to find answers. 

“Why did you hesitate?” Scott tried to keep his voice quiet, hushed, his eyes never leaving Erica as she stumbled to her feet.

“What?”

“I heard your heartbeat. It changed. Like you were… scared.”

“Well yeah, I’m fucking terrified,” Isaac snapped.

“Thought we were all on the same page with that one,” Stiles chimed in, now on his feet, hovering behind Scott.

Scott shook his head, tensing when Erica started moving toward them, “No, this was different. What threw you off?”

Erica lunged and he kicked, and while she was off balanced, Isaac tackled her to the ground and pinned her arms behind her back, setting all his weight on top of her. She struggled and fought hard to break free, but he just tightened his grip and dug his nails into her wrist. Not once did she cry out in pain. It was like she wasn’t in pain at all, like she couldn’t feel anything. Like her body would just keep going, no matter what – no matter how bruised or battered or injured – until she was dead. 

There was no logical explanation, no reasoning behind any of this – none that he knew of, anyway. And he looked up to see Scott and Stiles staring down at him expectantly, like he had all the answers. Like he had figured out what was going on. But all he’d done was find another piece to what was turning into an absolutely mind bending, terrifying puzzle. He had no clue what in the hell was going on and that, in a way, was more terrifying than the fact that Erica was trying to kill them all.

“Isaac, what threw you off? What’s going on?”

“Can’t you hear it? How did you not notice it?”

“I don’t understand –“

Isaac shook his head and cut him off, “Just shut up and listen!”

Scott looked hurt but did as he was told, focusing on all of the sounds in the room to try and pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

“How many heartbeats can you hear?” Isaac asked him after a few moments.

“I hear…” he stopped, eyes going wide with the same terror Isaac had felt just moments before, “I hear three. I only hear three.”

“Scott, she doesn’t have a pulse.”

“What the hell is going on…” Stiles’ voice was soft, shaky, and it sounded like his heart was going to burst at any moment. He was scared. They all were.

Scott just shook his head and knelt down to help Isaac keep her pinned, “I don’t know… but I think we should call Derek.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She has no pulse…” his voice was soft, and Isaac could have sworn he heard his heart stop for just a moment; Derek was scared, just like them.

The Sheriff was up now, pacing the kitchen and yelling about damn werewolves and danger and his son being caught in the middle of it all, and threatening to get his gun and just ‘shoot the god damn thing’ about every five seconds. And while Stiles tried to talk him down and convince him to _not_ shoot Erica (though, at this point, Isaac was beginning to think it would be a good idea if he knew it would work), he and Scott were using everything they had to hold her down until Derek got there. From what he’d overheard of the conversation Stiles had with him on the phone, it sounded like he was bringing Peter and the laptop with him. After everything that had happened with Jackson and the kanima and all the other weird non-werewolf related supernatural shit that happened in Beacon Hills, he wasn’t surprised that Derek was hoping that there was some sort of supernatural explanation for this. But Isaac wasn’t so sure. Everything about this just seemed off. 

The front door opened and Isaac wished that meant that he could relax but he knew better. This was just the beginning of what was no doubt going to be a very, very long day.

“What in god’s name is that stench?”

Isaac couldn’t help but smile. He knew a lot of the others seemed to have a problem with Peter, but he kind of liked him. Maybe it was the whole zombie werewolf thing; he’d always thought that was pretty cool. He stayed near the doorway, choosing to distance himself (somewhat) from the pungent odor that seemed to have grown stronger since Erica’s scent had first drifted into the room. Derek was scowling, looking frustrated and confused and he knew it was because he’d been hoping that the two of them were wrong – that they’d just overlooked her heartbeat, or that it was just too soft for them to hear.

“She has no pulse…” his voice was soft, and Isaac could have sworn he heard his heart stop for just a moment; Derek was scared, just like them.

“Yeah, see, we were really hoping you’d be able to tell us something we didn’t already know,” Stiles said as he leaned up against the door frame. He had his arms folded across his chest and the look on his face was stoic at best but it was all for show. If there was any time to put on a brave face and push aside the fear it was now – and pushing aside paralyzing fear had always seemed to be something Stiles was good at. Isaac respected him in that sense.

Derek just shook his head and took a few steps closer, and even though both Scott and Isaac were restraining her, Erica still tried to fight. She snarled and gnashed her teeth and tried her damn hardest to break free, if only so she could just sink her teeth into Derek’s flesh. Desperate for just one bite.

“I don’t know what this is. I’ve never seen it before. She smells like –“

“Like death?” Stiles cut Derek off, “Is this what death smells like? Because I can smell it now, too, and it’s rancid.”

“We should get her to Deaton.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to interject, “Probably not a wise idea.”

Derek didn’t look at all amused, “And why’s that?”

“Look at her,” the elder werewolf gestured to Erica, writhing and snarling and growling on the floor, “I certainly don’t want to be stuck in a car with _that_ , and something tells me you shouldn’t want to either.”

“We need to figure out what’s wrong with her.”

Peter just shrugged and opened up the laptop, “We can’t do that if we’re all dead.”

Scott shook his head, “But we need to do _something_. Isaac and I can’t sit here forever. I mean, she can’t kill all of us, right?”

Nothing about this felt right. Not the smell or the absent pulse or the deranged look in her eye. Not the way that they were talking – talking about her as if she wasn’t even there. Because she wasn’t. Erica wasn’t in that room with them, never had been. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Erica hadn’t been Erica in a very long time. He missed her. He hadn’t realized it until then, but he missed Erica. Missed her smile and her laugh, missed hanging out with her and Boyd, still riding the initial high of the bite. Back when they were still on top of the world, before they knew anything about Gerard and the kanima and how dangerous their lives were truly becoming. They were invincible then. A family. A loosely bound, high risk, incredibly naïve family but a family nonetheless.

“What are we going to tell Boyd?”

Everyone stopped and turned to look at him, their faces full of shock and confusion, but Derek was the only one to speak, “What do you mean, what are we going to tell him?”

“I mean, what the hell are we going to tell him? Because, I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a way where we all make it out of this alive.”

“We tell him the truth.”

“Alright – so does that mean you’re going to kill her? I have no problem pissing him off if you’re the one he’s going after for killing his girl.”

Scott looked back and forth quickly between the two of them, “Whoa – who said anything about killing her?”

“Got any better ideas?”

He shrugged and shook his head, “I don’t know, but not killing her sounds pretty good to me.”

“Do you see this? Do you see her right now? Someone is going to die, and I would rather it be this _thing_ than one of us.”

“Isaac, it… it’s Erica… We can’t just kill her.”

“No! It’s not her, it’s not Erica!” he snapped, “Not anymore. Look me in the eye and tell me she’s still in there. Because she’s not. I can feel it, and I know you do too. She’s already gone, Scott.”

Hanging his head in defeat, he shook his head once more, like he was holding out for even the slightest shred of hope – hope he knew would never come. Isaac was right. This wasn’t Erica. Whatever this was, whatever had taken over, it had killed her a long time ago. She was nothing more than a puppet, a shell. The way he saw it, they were doing her a favor. Killing her would be a release. He knew it’s what she would have wanted. Erica wouldn’t want to be taken advantage of. Not like this.

*********************************************************

They’d drugged her with a mixture of ketamine and wolfsbane and chained her up as best they could before carrying her deep into the woods. The Sheriff had refused to let them kill her – threat or no threat – in his living room, something Derek and Peter seemed to have a hard time understanding. But Stiles managed to talk his father down (again) and convinced him to go upstairs and pretend to sleep while they drugged her and carried her out of the house so no one could ever say he was in any way involved with this. Stiles had decided to stay behind and no one really blamed him, but Isaac couldn’t decide if it was because he wanted to check in on his dad or if it was because he didn’t want to watch Erica die. They had never really seemed like friends, but Erica had always spoken highly of Stiles; he’d often wondered if the feelings were mutual. But no one questioned his decision to stay. If Isaac had had it his way, he would have stayed behind as well. The knowledge that this person, this _thing_ was no longer Erica didn’t make it any easier. It still had her face and her scent was still buried under all of that stench. He didn’t want to kill her, but they had to. They really didn’t have any other choice.

Someone must have texted Boyd on the way to the reserve, because at some point on their journey into the woods he’d joined them. He wouldn’t look at anyone, just kept his gaze fixed downward as they walked deeper and deeper into the woods. Peter made a few inappropriately timed comments as they went, remarks at which Derek would simple snarl in response and then all would be quiet again. There was no conversation, no talk of a plan – no discussion of who, exactly, would be the one to carry out what needed to be done. But they were all thinking about it. It was hanging in the air, so thick he could almost taste it. He could smell it, though. The fear, the discomfort, the confusion. Even Peter – the man who had cheated death – was afraid. This was something that none of them had ever seen before, something that couldn’t easily be explained away. There was no explanation. 

“Derek, if we go any farther she’ll wake up before we get the chance to kill her,” Peter said softly in his usual calm, slightly monotonous drawl – only, right at the very end, something changed; a slight intimation of panic.

Derek rolled his eyes but stopped walking, gently setting Erica’s body down on the ground. He took a step back, almost as if he was expecting her to wake and lash out at him the very second she was free of his grip. But she didn’t. She wasn’t moving at all, and Isaac wasn’t entirely sure if she was even breathing. Everything was still and she almost looked peaceful and he truly wished that there was another way. Something else that they could do to help her. But there wasn’t and they all knew it, and they just had to deal with it and try to live with the fact that they’d done the right thing. 

They all gathered around her, keeping their distance but stayed close enough that they’d be ready just in case she woke – all except Boyd. He was leaning up against a tree further away, watching with distant eyes as they silently tried to decide who would be the one to do it. Who would be the one to kill Erica Reyes. Isaac almost volunteered, telling himself over and over again that it wasn’t Erica, only her body. Her spirit was long gone and this thing was not the girl he once knew. But the face alone was enough to deter him. He couldn’t kill a friend. After a few moments, Derek turned to look at Peter, and soon they all did the same. He simply rolled his eyes and took a cautious step forward.

“For god’s sake, fine. I’ll do it,” he paused to glare at Derek, “Fine example of leadership, Derek – make someone else clean up your mess.”

“I didn’t do this,” Derek sneered.

“Oh, but you did. You did this to her. You’re the one that bit her.”

It hardly seemed fair, blaming all of their troubles on Derek. But Peter had a point and Isaac had found himself hating Derek on more than one occasion in the past. If he hadn’t been bitten, if Derek hadn’t come into his life, none of this would be happening. But he’d asked for this. He’d given Derek permission – and even if he’d known then everything that he knew now, he wasn’t so sure he’d have made a different decision.

She started moving and time was no longer standing still. They needed to act quickly. Scott and Derek moved to hold her down while Peter tried to decide the quickest and most efficient way to end all of this, but it looked as though he was going to go for the neck. It was always the neck. The more she started coming to, the more she started to struggle, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Boyd staring in horror at the girl they once knew. He could hear it now – the growls and snarls and screams. He could hear the madness. Isaac moved away from them, from her, and walked over to Boyd and put a hand on his shoulder as he turned his back to the pack and pretended he couldn’t hear Peter’s claws ripping open her throat.

*********************************************************

They all spent the night at Derek’s loft – Isaac, Scott, Peter, Boyd, even Stiles. Allison and Lydia had gone away for the week, determined to have just a few stress free days of summer that didn’t include babysitting werewolves or chasing down other supernatural creatures, so it really had turned into a boys night in.

None of them slept that night, only sat there, staring out at nothing because no one had the heart or the energy to speak or even look at anyone else. No one wanted to admit that they were upset, and absolutely no one wanted to admit that they were afraid. They still had no clue what had happened – what had turned Erica into that _thing_. But the thought that was burning in the back of Isaac’s mind – the thought that kept him up through the rest of the night – was that he didn’t _want_ to know. Something told him that it would be easier to stay blissfully unaware, to try and carry on as if it had never happened and pretend that all was well with the world. They needed to figure it out, though; needed to find answers. Something weird was going on. Something, or someone, had turned their friend into a lifeless puppet. They needed to know what had happened to make sure it never happened again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to introduce the original character in chapter three - we'll see how it goes. It just depends on the flow and such, and where everything leads. I try not to plan things too much; I just take an idea and run with it and see where it leads, and hope it blossoms into something but in a continuous manner. So I don't want to just throw her into the chapter just for the sake of introducing her. I want her to come in at the right time in the right way, because I've been working on her character-wise for a while and I love her a lot. Hopefully you all will, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm horrible with writing out fight scenes, so go easy on me. But this fic will be good practice for me because I'm probably going to end up writing a lot of them. I got the idea for this fic from baby formula. Yes - baby formula. We sell tons of baby formula at work. There's at least fifty different kinds. There's baby formula for fussiness, there's baby formula for gas, there's baby formula that's soy based, there's 'normal' formula - and last but not least, there's 'organic' formula. And, I don't know about you, but that made me think: Organic as opposed to what? Then I started thinking about genetic modification and how food today is overly modified and processed, and it eventually sparked this idea. So, thank you Walmart, I guess.


End file.
